After the Apocalypse Comes
by Feygan
Summary: What life is like after the "final" apocalypse. Completed March 2003.


Title: After the Apocalypse Comes  
Author: Feygan  
Completion Date: March 23, 2003  
Pairing: Willow/Xander  
Fandom: Buffy  
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I'm just borrowing some of the characters  
Contact:  
.

I believe in nothing  
we should seize the day  
when the lights go down  
the nightmares come out to play.  
The bells of hell are ringing  
can you hear their song?  
A monster lives behind every mask  
consuming everyone.  
--Midnight Feast

.

.

A Sunday afternoon in a post-apocalyptic world with the steamy hush of nighttime just beginning to blanket everything. Through the haze of ash percolating in the atmosphere, it was obvious the sun was definitely going down. It was almost playtime for the monster set.

Before it had happened, whenever anyone had talked about the apocalypse they made like that was gonna be it, the end of everything. No one ever mentioned what came afterward, the horror and the fear and the desperate struggle to survive. It was hard to believe that just five years ago the world had been _normal_. Now there were monsters ruling the night and the human race was quickly dying off.

At seventeen years old, David "Vector" Giles could just barely remember the way the world used to be, and he almost wished he couldn't. He'd had dreams about life before he was twelve, and with how bad everything had gotten, he didn't want to think about the _wonderful_ life he could have had if the world hadn't gone to shit. It was too much like having his nosed rubbed in all he had lost.

Sometimes he could almost hear his dad's voice in his ear warning him. When he'd been alive, his dad had always been way overprotective, but now that that protective shield was gone, Vector couldn't help missing it. If there had been one person that knew everything there was to know about vampires and demons, it was Vector's dad. Too bad he'd died only a few hours after the apocalypse from the wounds he'd received trying to keep the Hellmouth closed. The Slayer had died too, but it wasn't like that had been the first time for her--she'd died at least four times that Vector could remember hearing about. But this time she hadn't gotten up again, had stayed stone cold like the dead were supposed to.

After the Slayer died the second time, Vector could wish that his dad had stayed in England where he belonged instead of coming back to help her again. Even if he hadn't been born when the decision was made, Vector could imagine a world where his dad hadn't let himself be dragged back into the whole Slayer-Watcher mess. Maybe then he would have some memories of a father that saw _him_ as the center of things instead of some short blond woman with the vocabulary of a child.

As it was, the world was a place of darkness, but he hadn't been as surprised after the apocalypse as a lot of people. He had always known that monsters were real. It wasn't much protection against things going bump in the night, but at least he had known when to run away and hide. Like he was trying to do right now.

The boy ran through the streets, darting in and out of buildings and dodging around the moldering hulk of dead cars. His breath "whuffed" out of him with each exhalation and he knew that he was fast running out of steam. He had some fearful endurance, but he was no match for what was chasing him.

_Dammit, why did Heather have to kick me out tonight of all nights? This is just what I need._ He leaped over a pit in the road, stumbling a little without stopping.

"Run, little rabbit, run, run, run! I like my tasty treats to be nice and lean, tasty, tasty. I'm gonna eat you all up, little bunny, little mouse. I'm gonna drink you dry and grind your bones into dust. I'm gonna sew your skin into a nice little jacket, my pretty."

Vector shuddered at the hissed words, but didn't stop, didn't slow down. If he was going to die, then he was going to do it running away, not lying down waiting for it to happen.

Peripherally, he could sense other humans darting in the shadows around him, huddling down into their secret little caves, not wanting to draw the attention of the beasts that followed him. He could almost wish he was one of their number, that he hadn't been "chosen" tonight.

He took a corner too fast and his sneakers skidded out from under him. He cursed as his knee hit the ground, but he was already scrambling back up to his feet, fumbling for the stake tucked in his belt at the same time. But it was too late, and he'd known if from the first moment the chase had started.

A viselike hand clamped on his upper arm, jerking him around. Tears of pain flooded his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. If he was going to die tonight, he was going to do it standing tall. He wasn't going to fall apart, not now and not ever.

"What do you want?" he growled, narrowing his eyes and raising his chin.

The creature smiled, a strangely attractive expression. He'd been a rather handsome human, and it had carried across with the change. His dark hair had a bit of curl to it, and his skin was Noxzema smooth. His lips were a bit sarcastic, but the dark chocolate of his eyes drew attention to their stagnant depths. Still, dead eyes notwithstanding, and even knowing that the guy wasn't real, that a monster lived behind that face, Vector felt himself getting a little hard.

"Well aren't you just a little bit of ass kicking in leather. You kind of remind me of me… back when I was trying to save the world and all, before I got a clue. It makes me almost want to let you go… what do you think Wills?" He turned his head a little.

A red-headed woman came slinking out of the shadows to twine herself around the man, her leg lifting to hook her knee on his hip. She wrapped her arms around his waist and lay her cheek against the side of his neck. She was dressed in black leather and red lace that matched her lipstick. Calm green eyes slipped over Vector's shivering body.

Even in his terror, Vector couldn't help the sense of familiarity he got from them. It was as though he had seen their faces a long time ago, though it felt a bit like someone else's memories. Maybe he had seen their pictures somewhere, like in the obituary column. As a child he had had a morbid curiosity about all of the people that died in Sunnydale and had spent hours gazing at the pictures in the newspaper of all of the people that had died, knowing that some of them hadn't stayed dead.

"He's nothing like you, Xan," the woman said. "He's human. Weak. And I'm hungry."

It had been her voice chasing Vector out of the dark, so it was oddly fitting that she would be the one to decide his fate, the final death that his body wasn't going to wake up from. At least he wasn't going to have to worry about a demon wearing his face hunting his friends.

The man, Xan, looked back at Vector and shrugged. "Sorry, man." And his face _morphed_, the monster coming out.

Vector shoved against the iron hands that grabbed him, tore at his flesh, but there was no running away. He screamed as a set of razor teeth ripped into his neck, then felt his voice spiraling outward in a high-pitched squeal as other teeth clamped into the big vein alongside his groin. Merciless hands yanked his legs apart with a hissing-pop of disjointed bone and torn muscle.

As he was dying, he had time for a slightly wondering thought about how the man was able to hold him in the air even against the yanking grasp of the woman. He would have thought that he would have been too heavy, even after the starvation diet he'd been surviving on.

Then there was no more time for thinking. Just dying.

.

"Well that was disappointing. There was barely even a mouthful," Xander complained.

Willow shrugged her shoulders, making her long hair ripple down her back. She'd been trying to grow it out, a vague reminder of the girl she had once been, and the woman she'd become. "The foods nearly run out. There's barely any humans left. Pretty soon we're gonna have to start eating each other."

"That's disgusting," Xander said, but he couldn't help the little smile that quirked the corners of his lips.

She grinned at him. She knew what thought dwelt in his head.

They walked side by side down the quiet streets, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. They were predators in their natural habitat and their rolling, lazy stride showed it. Nothing bad could touch them, because they were the biggest bad around.

"I almost miss the Master," Xander said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Entertainment value. Without TV, we need _something_ to keep us entertained."

"If that's the case, does that mean you miss Buffy always trying to save the day?" Willow cocked her head curiously.

Xander snorted. "Naw, I'm glad that bitch's dead… and this time she stayed that way, hallelujah. We spent so much time helping her save the world that I don't really need the aggravation of having her back alive and sticking her pointy little nose where it doesn't belong." He slowly swiped the side of his right hand up and down his black leather covered leg. "Hey, did you notice that that kid looked kind of familiar? I wonder if we ate his parents."

Willow laughed.  
.

=THE END=


End file.
